


You Should Take it as a Compliment

by awesomeaislin



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Drunkenness, Fluff, Late Night Conversations, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-14 23:17:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16050605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesomeaislin/pseuds/awesomeaislin
Summary: Baz is drunk, and very in love, and Simon has to make sure his drunken vampire doesn't fall down the stairs or set the whole apartment on fire."He can’t bring himself to upset Baz on a night like this. Where he’s so nice and lovely and unabashedly in love.“You sound so dumb when you talk, Snow.” Ok, so maybe not THAT nice"





	You Should Take it as a Compliment

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in a couple hours because I hurt my leg and feel sad. SO I read a fic very similar to this in another fandom and I loved it, and so I thought it had to be made for this fandom. Of course it does. So year, be nice

Simon is pretty sure Baz wouldn’t have made it up the stairs and into the apartment if it weren't for the arm he has tightly wrapped around his waist. Fuck that. Simon doesn’t think Baz would have made it from the living room and into Simon’s bedroom without him there. He’s so clearly drunk that, as he stumbles through the apartment, Penny looks up to give him a judging stare, and he doesn’t even fight back.

 

Simon briefly thinks about the irony of him helping Baz up the stairs when Baz fully pushed him down the stairs _not even that many_ years ago.

 

Simon is relieved when he finally gets him into the bedroom because at least in here Baz probably can’t hurt himself. ( _Probably_ . He doesn’t seem in any mood to set the bedroom on fire, so it’s probably safe. _Probably.)_ Baz flops himself down on the bed with so little dignity that he’s almost unrecognizable. Simon laughs a little bit because he’s not even lying down the right way. His feet are by the pillow.

 

“You’re not allowed to laugh at me,” Baz frowns. He gets even bossier somehow with a drink in him. He sets arbitrary rules that Simon _must_ follow or he’ll frown and pout until he fixes himself. Simon straightens his face to appease him.

 

He watches as Baz looks out the window and into the city (Not that it’s a nice view. They’re not in one of the more scenic areas of London, as Baz _loves_ to remind Simon). But tonight he looks out the window like it’s the loveliest thing in the world. Like he’ll never see something as beautiful as this ever again. Simon tries to remember every piece of his face like this.

 

“Sit,” He demands, so Simon does. He always does. Baz is hard to resist like this. (Baz is hard to resist anyway, he’s harder to resist like this.)

 

Baz stares at him. As if he’s even prettier than the beautiful view he’s not watching anymore. Which Simon supposes is a low bar, it’s not a very pretty street.

 

“You’re beautiful,” Baz tells him unabashed. Simon has to smile. Baz is never like this. He’s always a little bit restrained. He doesn’t like to tell Simon real things he thinks. It must be the alcohol.

 

“You’re drunk,” Simon says softly. He runs his hands through Baz’s hair on the bed. It’s terribly tangled, and nothing like normal, but somehow a perfect description of this moment: a little bit of mess, but still something beautiful.

 

Baz frowns and looks like he’s trying to think of something to say or do to prove it, but he just shakes his head and mumbles, “I’ll say it again when I’m sober.”

 

“You will?” Simon chuckles. Baz pouts. For someone so naturally intimidating, Baz has perfected his pout. “I’m sure you will, darling.”

 

Simon doesn’t know everything about Baz. Not hardly. He knows more than most, much more than most. Baz isn’t especially forthcoming. But he does know that Baz loves when he calls him darling. It’s not hard to know that. Not with the way his face flushes at hearing it. (or flushes as much as possible for a vampire)

 

“I will,” He promises as if Simon has doubts. Baz closes his eyes and leans his head more into Simon’s hand. Simon just keeps watching him. Baz is always a beautiful sight. Even when he’s being mean. Even when he’s arguing.

 

Simon sits like this for a while. He takes to untangling bits of Baz’s hair because at least Baz won’t have to do it when he wakes up with a headache.

 

“You’ve got to stop staring at me,” Baz mumbles. Simon didn’t even know he was awake, but he is, and his eyes are open, and Simon thinks he might be trying to glare. Emphasis on trying. He’s not doing very well.

 

“Why?” Simon asks.

 

“You just do.” Baz closes his eyes again. And Simon chuckles because the whole thing is just ridiculous.

 

He does look away for a second. It’s a very short second (he can’t stand to look away all the long (he never really could)), but a second nonetheless because he can’t bring himself to upset Baz on a night like this. Where he’s so nice and lovely and unabashedly in love.

 

“You sound so dumb when you talk, Snow.” _Ok, so maybe not THAT nice_ , “But I love you anyway.”

 

Simon can’t really find it in himself to be mad about that. Because, yeah Baz called him an idiot, but really what else is new? When isn’t Baz calling him an idiot, but at least he loves Simon. He really loves Simon.

 

“Say it back,” He demands pouting again.

 

“But you were mean to me,” Simon laughs. As if that’s something that would stop him. As if there is anything Baz could do that could stop him. Baz ought to know that.

 

Baz whines at him a little bit. He opens his eyes and pouts, but it’s interrupted by a yawn. Which reminds Simon how late it actually is, and how much Baz probably needs the sleep, and how much he really needs the sleep.

 

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” Simon says. He tries to encourage Baz to sit up, so that he can get under the covers, and maybe actually get his head on the pillow, but Baz doesn’t go easy. Honestly, when is Baz ever easy? “C’mon, darling,” Simon encourages.

 

“Can’t,” Baz mumbles and burrows face into Simon. “Can’t do it.”

 

“Yes you can, love,” Simon assures him. He stands up and away from Baz as much as it kills him. Baz really frowns at him now. He looks like he might even cry.

 

“No,” Baz shakes his head, and Simon just knows he’s not going to win, so he wraps his arms around Baz and carries him to the right side of the bed. He tries to ignore the voice in his head that’s telling him that Baz could probably get him to do anything. (The Penny in his head is probably deeply disappointed, that the answer to _‘If Baz jumped off a bridge, then would you too?_ ’ is likely _‘Of course’)_  

 

He sets Baz down, and somehow peels Baz’s jeans off. And, _God_ , even if Baz hadn’t been wasted enough to be this sweet, just wearing those jeans would have probably been enough to get Simon to do all this anyway. He goes to go change out of his own jeans and Baz complains again, “Where are you going?”

 

“I’m just getting ready for bed,” Simon promises.

 

“So you’re staying with me?”

 

 _When have I ever left,_ Simon thinks.

 

“It’s my bed,” Simon says instead. He takes off his jeans and he lies down next to where Baz has already curled up. He wraps his arms around him because how can he not? Baz buries his face into Simon’s chest, and Simon isn’t even annoyed when he slides his cold feet in between Simon’s warm ones.

 

“Love you,” He mumbles.

 

“Yes,” Simon smiles, “You did say that.”

 

“Then fucking say it back,” Baz snaps, and Simon has to laugh at that because the noise is muffled by his chest. It’s got almost no bite to it.

“Why should I?” Simon questions. “Don’t you already know?”

 

Baz doesn’t respond for a second as if he has to think about it. He really shouldn’t have to think about it. “Ok, I know.” Simon presses a kiss into his hair, and Baz sighs happily.

 

_Because of course he does._

 


End file.
